


Commitment

by nyanja14



Category: Nabari no Ou
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Weddings, Yuhki Kamatani Secret Santa Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyanja14/pseuds/nyanja14
Summary: “I’m no good for relationship advice. You’re better off asking your old teacher,” Yukimi said. “On second thought, no. Ask Hanabusa instead.”“I never asked for relationship advice,” Miharu muttered.(Miharu and Yukimi attend Tsukasa's wedding.)
Relationships: Rokujou Miharu & Yukimi Kazuhiko, Rokujou Miharu/OMC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Commitment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RavioliRed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavioliRed/gifts).



> Written for the Yuhki Kamatani Secret Santa Exchange for RavioliRed/Maggie! You asked for something exploring the quasi-parental relationship between Miharu and Yukimi, as well as something about older Miharu. I set out with those intentions but wound up going off on a bit of a tangent. I hope you enjoy it! ^_^
> 
> (I didn't know what to title this.)

“You want to go somewhere after this?” Hiromu asked.

“Go somewhere?” Miharu repeated, twisting off the camera lens to exchange it for a macro version. He wanted crisp lines for this assignment and the standard lens just wasn’t cutting it.

“You know. Dinner, maybe the movies. Yuko said that alien movie was a lot better than the trailer made it look.”

Miharu raised the camera. Hiromu immediately stopped talking and angled his posture for a loose, casual pose. Miharu snapped several shots in succession, Hiromu shifting slightly whenever the flashes paused. 

Plenty of fellow students had modeled for Miharu, but Hiromu was by far the best. He didn’t become self-conscious in front of the camera, and he had a keen understanding of how to position himself for different effects. While he took direction well, Miharu found he didn’t often need to give it; Hiromu seemed to know what pose Miharu wanted before he did.

Hiromu claimed that he didn’t have any modeling experience, so he was either a natural or a liar. Miharu hadn’t decided yet which was more likely.

Quickly, Miharu checked the recent shots on his camera’s display. The soft, red light coming through the empty classroom windows cast a warm glow over the sharp angles of Hiromu’s face, but there was more shadow than he wanted. Miharu adjusted one of the reflective umbrellas.

“Or we could just get takeout and go back to my place,” Hiromu said, picking up the conversation as if there’d been no pause. “My roommate will be gone.”

Miharu glanced at him. A pink flush bled through his tanned skin, but Hiromu kept his gaze fixed on Miharu, waiting for a response. 

Miharu didn’t know what to say though. Truth be told, the invitation flattered him, and he got along well with Hiromu -- liked him, even. But the notion of shifting their nebulous relationship into a more defined direction made Miharu’s stomach clench.

“If you hate the idea, I’ll drop it,” Hiromu said finally. “But...I thought you had fun last time.”

“I did,” Miharu acknowledged. He bit his lip, glad to already have an excuse. “I can’t go out tonight. I have plans.”

Before Hiromu could respond, someone opened the classroom door and called inside, “Hey, Rokujo. Some weird guy is looking for you outside.”

“Weird guy?” Hiromu asked.

Grateful for the interruption, Miharu moved closer to the window to check the sidewalk. He spotted Yukimi immediately. Given his height, blond hair, and empty sleeve, he was hard to miss. The addition of Yoi riding his shoulders had clearly turned heads. A small crowd of students bunched around him, reaching up to pet the black cat.

With a heave, Miharu pushed the window open. Not much slipped by Yukimi; he spotted the movement right away and yelled, “Miharu! How many times I gotta tell you to answer your phone!”

Miharu leaned against the sill. “I’m busy.”

“Well, you’re not anymore. C’mon, we need to hit the road!”

Miharu waved once in acknowledgement before shutting the window again. “I’ve probably got a few usable shots,” he told Hiromu. “But are you free next Tuesday if we need to do more?”

“Sure,” Hiromu said, though he was still peering down at the sidewalk. “Who’s that?”

“Yukimi.”

“And who’s Yukimi?”

“Hm. Kinda like my dad, I guess?”

“You guess? Wait, your dad?”

Miharu, however, was too busy packing his equipment to bother elaborating. Not that he had any idea how to explain Yukimi anyway. Friend? Too trite. Mentor? Too formal. Bodyguard? That would only require more explanation, not to mention all that was in the past -- mostly.

Hiromu helped him gather all his things and lug it all down to where Yukimi was waiting, tapping his foot. Yoi spotted Miharu approaching and jumped to the ground to wind around Miharu’s ankles.

“Hey, there.” Miharu set his schoolbag down and bent to scratch the cat under the chin. Yoi’s eyes closed in bliss. 

Yukimi grabbed his bag, hefting it over his shoulder. “C’mon, I parked by the gate, and some security guard gave me a dirty look.”

“What, you can’t take him?”

“I can help carry everything to the car,” Hiromu interjected.

“And who’re you?” Yukimi asked, blunt but not rude.

Hiromu straightened his back. “Yamada Hiromu, sir. I’m in the photography program with Miharu.”

“I recognize you. Miharu shot you for that negative space assignment.” Yukimi ran his eyes over Hiromu from top to bottom. Miharu wondered what he saw. Untested civilian? Possible threat? Simply a friend of Miharu’s?

Whatever impression he gathered couldn’t have been too bad because after a moment Yukimi said, “Well, I’d appreciate a hand since his royal highness can’t deign to carry his own stuff.”

“I’m carrying Yoi,” Miharu said, already scooping the cat up.

They trooped to front gate where indeed a guard leveled them with a stony expression. Yukimi ignored him, tossing Miharu’s schoolbag into the trunk of his little blue car while Miharu settled Yoi in his basket. Hiromu handed over the duffle bags containing Miharu’s photography equipment, which Yukimi handled with more care.

“Where are you going?” Hiromu asked Miharu.

“Friend’s wedding.”

“Ah.” Hiromu spotted the garment bags hanging in the back of the car. “You’ll have to send me a picture. I’ve never seen you dressed up.”

“Not sure you want to,” Yukimi grunted, getting behind the wheel. “I’ve met blind folk with better fashion sense than this kid.”

Miharu glanced down at his outfit. Jeans and sneakers were normal enough, weren’t they? Grandma called the salmon jeans a “bold choice.” He hadn’t done laundry recently, so he’d finished the look with a lime green shirt he received after donating blood and a warm flannel shirt Raimei left behind last time she visited. 

“I’ll send a picture,” Miharu promised Hiromu, and then he and Yukimi were on their way.

* * *

It wasn’t a long trip, but it was long enough for Miharu to get in a decent nap. When he woke, Yukimi had already checked them into their hotel for the night.

“Up and at ‘em,” Yukimi said. “You gonna make a guy with one arm carry all this crap up to the room?”

Miharu yawned and stretched but obligingly grabbed his schoolbag and Yoi’s basket. “Just leave all my equipment in the car. I’ll need it at the wedding tomorrow.”

Once they were in the room, Yukimi clicked on the TV and started getting ready for bed while the last inning of a baseball game buzzed in the background.

Miharu sprawled on his bed and pulled out his laptop. He wouldn’t have time tomorrow to work and his project was due too soon to procrastinate. Yoi sprang up on the mattress and settled beside him as he started uploading the pictures from that afternoon’s shoot.

“So. Yamada Hiromu,” Yukimi said, mumbling around his toothbrush. “Is he the guy you’ve been seeing?” 

“Sort of.”

“He’s sort of the guy?”

“I’ve sort of been seeing him.”

Yukimi spat toothpaste foam into the sink. “What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know.” Miharu clicked through the photos, examining them on his laptop’s bigger screen. “I like Hiromu, but not as much as he likes me. I don’t know if dating him is a good idea.”

“Mm. Well, I’m no good for relationship advice. You’re better off asking your old teacher.” The game returned from commercial break and Yukimi watched the pitch with a critical eye, grunting when the batter hit the ball cleanly between second and third base. As the players chased the ball, Yukimi said, “On second thought, no. Ask Hanabusa instead.”

“I never asked for relationship advice,” Miharu muttered.

“Is his photography any good?”

Wordlessly, Miharu went to Hiromu’s online portfolio. Unlike most of the students in their program, he was actually pretty diligent about updating it regularly. Some of his work from the exhibit earlier that year had been uploaded, so Miharu turned the screen around to show Yukimi. He took the laptop from Miharu and held it closer to peer at it.

“You need glasses, old man,” Miharu said.

“Shut up. He’s into some pretty abstract stuff, huh?”

“He says a lot of his work is about silence.” 

Miharu thought that was kinda funny when Hiromu first explained it during a presentation; his early impression of his classmate had been that Hiromu was a chatterbox. But he came to realize that Hiromu never talked simply to fill a silence. Quite the opposite -- Hiromu treated quiet moments with a respect that bordered on reverence. 

“Silence,” Yukimi said, tilting his head. “I can see it. He should stop relying so much on long shots though. He’s really limiting himself.”

“I’ll tell him you say so, oh wise one.”

Yukimi flicked the back of his head. “I’m sleeping once the game is over. Don’t stay up too late. Weddings are exhausting enough without a headache.”

* * *

Miharu hadn’t known what to expect. The only other wedding he’d been to recently was Raikau and Gau’s, and he didn’t think theirs was standard in any way. Yukimi’s words turned out to be prophecy though; not even an hour in, Miharu was drained dry.

He’d hoped that being behind a camera would render him invisible to most of the guests. It worked at first. But once the ceremony ended and the reception began, people kept tugging him in different directions, asking to have their picture taken.

Miharu quickly realized that most of the guests were relatives and friends of the bride. It made sense, he supposed, since Tsukasa was estranged from his family, but it made Miharu kind of sad. He was glad he’d accepted the invitation. 

Yukimi, as usual, offered no help with the photography. He sat with a bunch of matronly women, tossing back mimosas and laughing loudly. Miharu couldn’t see Yoi, but he suspected the cat was probably fast asleep in his basket. He spotted the cat’s little head peeking out during the ceremony, but otherwise Yoi had remained hidden.

When the picture-mania finally died down, Miharu joined Yukimi’s table.

“Where’s your food?” Yukimi asked. “You gotta eat your fill at weddings.”

“Not hungry,” Miharu said, though he stole some datemaki off Yukimi’s plate.

Yukimi shoved the plate towards him. “You might as well finish it.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Is this your son?” the woman beside Miharu asked. She had a massive lotus brooch pinned to the front of her blouse that looked like it could be used as a shuriken in a pinch. “I see he inherited your stubbornness.”

Yukimi snorted. “No, that’s all him.”

Miharu picked at Yukimi’s leftover rice. “I definitely didn’t get my good looks from you either.”

The women tittered, but Yukimi only rolled his eyes, too used now to Miharu’s nettling to get riled up.

“You do look very sharp,” Lotus Brooch said.

“Thank you. My grandmother picked out the suit.”

“Ha!” Yukimi crowed. “I knew you couldn’t have picked that.”

That reminded Miharu of his promise to Hiromu. He handed his phone over to Yukimi and asked him to take his photo. Yukimi obliged him, but not before demanding Miharu stand up and stop slouching.

Miharu tried to stand straight without going rigid. He felt far more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it. Thankfully, Yukimi didn’t torture him with endless shots. Miharu sent the photo to Hiromu, who swiftly replied with  \\(★ω★)/.

Miharu smiled. They texted back and forth, Miharu contributing just enough to the conversation at the table to not seem unbelievably rude. Fortunately, Yukimi and the women were discussing local restaurants, so not much input was expected from him. He kept texting Hiromu, reaching into Yoi’s basket on the chair beside him to stroke his fur. 

Eventually, the women wandered off to talk to other guests. Yukimi downed the last of his drink and nodded towards Miharu’s phone. “Talking to Hiromu?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. If he makes you smile like that, then I’d say you probably like him enough to date him.”

Miharu touched his face. He hadn’t realized he was still smiling. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Why not?”

Before Miharu could reply, the newlyweds came around to give their greetings. Tsukasa looked handsome in his suit. Since the ceremony ended, he’d been grinning so broadly and so long that Miharu thought his cheeks might’ve permanently dimpled. The bride, Aya, wore a dress so white it shone. On the two other occasions Miharu had met her, she wore her hair in a long braid down her back. For her wedding, however, it was twisted up on the crown of her head.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” Tsukasa said. “And you brought Yoi!”

The cat poked his head out of the basket, showing off the bright ribbon adorning his neck in honor of the occasion. Yukimi had spent an indecent amount of time that morning tying and retying the ribbon and then snapping dozens of pictures.

Tsukasa stroked Yoi while Yukimi offered his congratulations and then proceeded to rib him for how flushed Tsukasa’s cheek had become from all the alcohol. Aya watched on, smiling indulgently, then turned to Miharu.

“Really, thank you so much for coming out.” She had a soft way of speaking that she claimed resulted from growing up with too many noisy siblings and cousins. “I know it meant a lot to Tsukasa.”

“We wanted to come. Tsukasa’s an old friend.”

“I hope we can see more of you two. I’d like to get to know you better.” Aya’s smile turned mischievous. “That is, if you’re willing to give up some of your mystique.”

“The truth is,” Miharu deadpanned, “we’re both ninja.”

Yukimi shot him a warning look, but Aya only giggled behind her hand.

Miharu wondered how exactly Tsukasa explained them. Aya knew how Tsukasa first met Yukimi thanks to Yoi and his mother. Tsukasa shared that story the first time they all four met up, still impressed with how Yukimi let a cat bite him like it was nothing. But Miharu wondered what Tsukasa had told Aya about Yoite, if anything.

Talking about Yoite no longer made Miharu’s chest ache like it once had. But it still wasn’t easy, especially with people who never knew him. Yukimi felt the same -- maybe Tsukasa did too.

Aya lingered a while longer to pet Yoi too and then left to greet more of her relatives. Tsukasa sat down, complaining good-naturedly that his shoes were pinching his feet, and demanded to see a picture of Hiromu because Yukimi ratted Miharu out. Miharu pulled up Hiromu’s Instagram for Tsubasa to peruse.

“Hm, he looks okay. But make sure I meet him before you get married.”

“We’re not getting married.”

“You say that now,” Tsukasa said, nodding sagely. “But there’s no telling what you’ll say in a year or two.”

He left not long after that to continue his hosting duties. Yukimi picked up the earlier thread of conversations -- or perhaps it was building off of Tsukasa’s proclamation.

“What’s really stopping you from dating this guy? Do you just not want to?”

Miharu pet Yoi, who’d curled up in his lap. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But the last time I dated someone it went...not good.”

“I remember,” Yukimi said. “That was years ago though, and this is a completely different guy.”

“I’m the same though.”

“What do you mean?”

A crowded wedding on a beautiful morning didn’t feel like the right place for this conversation. He needed to talk it out though, and Yukimi was the only person he’d consider telling. Yukimi, for all his disinterest in romance, was more likely to understand than anyone else.

Miharu cast his gaze over the guests, most of them talking, eating, and dancing in pairs and ran his fingers through Yoi’s silky black fur.

“Whenever I’m interested in someone, I can’t help but compare how I feel about them to how I felt about Yoite,” Miharu said. “And they always come up short. Everything was so much more...intense with Yoite.”

“It was a pretty intense situation. If you compare how you feel about some guy you meet at school to Yoite, of course it’s going to be completely different.”

“I know that. But I just -- I guess I feel it’s not fair for me to date someone when I’m still like this.”

Yukimi lined up the empty mimosa glasses, forehead creased. “To me, it seems more unfair to not give them a chance. If you stopped holding yourself back, maybe eventually you’d come to like them just as much as Yoite but in a different way.” 

“I don’t know.”

“Back then,” Yukimi said, suddenly insistent, “who do you think I cared about more: Yoite or you?”

Miharu raised an eyebrow. The answer was obvious. “Yoite.”

“Who do you think I care more about now?”

Oh. Miharu understood where he was going with this. His stomach squirmed in an oddly pleasant manner and Miharu stared determinedly at Yoi. Even now, he never quite knew how to handle being happy.

“The feelings are different, but I care about both of you equally,” Yukimi went on. “Just ‘cause some feelings take longer to develop or develop in different ways doesn’t make them inferior.” 

“Okay, I get it,” Miharu said, cutting Yukimi off before he could say anything else bordering on mushy. “How many of those mimosa glasses are yours? I'm driving.”

“I'm fine,” Yukimi groused, but Miharu just said, “Nope,” and filched the keys from Yukimi's pocket at the first opportunity.

After the wedding petered off and Yukimi was snoring in bed, Miharu scrolled back through his texts with Hiromu, unable to contain the grin at Hiromu’s increasingly abstract kaomoji. He bit his lip and carefully tapped out a message. 

_ “Dinner and movie on Thursday?” _


End file.
